


Must Be Doin' Somethin' Right

by PansexualMoose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Reader Insert, slight curse words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 18:19:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5976604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PansexualMoose/pseuds/PansexualMoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After getting attacked by some witches, Sam and Dean rescue you and your class from the run in and Sam helps you with some hurt/comfort feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Must Be Doin' Somethin' Right

Hissing at the contact of the alcohol covered cloth hitting your broken skin, you seriously considered punching Dean just to distract yourself from the pain coursing down your spine. You just had to follow your students into that damned haunted house and make sure they were alright. And then there were screams, and the next thing you remember, you were being carried out by some guy. Some, very tall, very handsome guy. Man? Boy? You cringed as he pressed the cloth against your head again.

                “Sorry,” he sighed, his lips turning into a thin smile.

                “Stuff hurts like a bitch, but it’s better than death.” The other man said, taking the bottle of whiskey from the man in front of you and taking a swig before pouring some onto a cloth and sticking the fabric on his own wounds.

                “Thank you, Dean.” The man in front of you sighed. “Because she really wanted to know that death was her other option.”

                “I’m not dumb,” you said after a moment. “I understand what happened back there. Okay, well, I _kind of_ understand what happened back there.” You clarified as Dean gave you a look.

                “She’s smarter than she looks, Sammy.” Ah, yes, it was coming back to you now. Sam and Dean. Brothers. _Hunters_ in their words. At first, you wanted to scream and run away, but then they saved your class and now here you were…. sitting in their shitty motel room, groaning as Sam pulls a needle and thread through the skin at the base of your neck.

                “I don’t know about you crazy kids, but I am heading out for a beer.” Dean said, grabbing his jacket and car keys after patching himself up. “Ya coming Sammy?”

                “I’m gonna stay here with [y/n],” He said from behind you, wigging the needle a bit to get it through a particularly tough part of skin. Taking another shot of whiskey from the bottle, you groaned and urged to twist your neck.

                “Shh,” Sam placed a warm, gentle hand on your shoulder, keeping you still. “I know, this hurts. I’m almost done.” He gave a soft smile and you could almost hear it in his voice. Once the stitches were in place, Sam offered you a clean shirt of his and offered his shower.

                “I don’t have any clean….” Your voice trailed off as you looked down at the shirt on the bed.

                “Oh, right.” Sam blushed, walking over to their bag if weapons and salves and putting the needle in a bottle of alcohol to sanitize. After cleaning the blood, your blood, off of his hands, Sam looks around the table for a minute before he finds what he’s looking for. He wiggles the keys to Dean’s Impala and smiles.

                “Mind if I give you a ride?”

 

                Back at your house, you unlocked the door and welcomed Sam in without a problem. Your dog, a golden lab, came rushing down the stairs as soon as he heard your keys in the door.

                “Hiya, boy!” Sam said, kneeling his large frame down to meet face to face with the dog. “I brought your mommy back safe and sound.” He smiled, scratching the animal behind the ears. You smiled and leaned against the staircase, dizzy. Noticing your lack of color, Sam stood up and placed his large hand gently around your arm.

                “Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” He asked, turning you gently to walk up the stairs. After bending down and untying your shoes, you came up a little too fast. Your head rushed and you fell backwards, thankfully into Sam’s arms. You looked at him for a moment, your eyes crossing, but a soft smile on your lips.

                “May I?” He asked, reaching gently under your legs and pulling you up into his chest. In your healthy mind, you would make all kinds of protest. You didn’t need to be treated like a princess, you weren’t a damsel in distress and all that jazz. But, right now, your head was pounding and there was a slight tilt to the room. You let Sam carry you.

                Not only that, you let Sam stay in the bathroom with you while you showered. In all honesty, it was to make sure you didn’t face plant in the bathroom, but it was also nice having a presence there. Living alone for the past thirteen or so years of your life hadn’t been the easiest. You had a steady job and all that, but you still longed for company. Of course, working at the university meant that you didn’t have a lot of friends, either. Does anyone else know how hard it is to be a professor and have a social life? Once you were finished with your shower, Sam excused himself out of the bathroom to let you get dressed.

                Coming out of the bathroom, you smiled when you saw large man sprawled across your bed, length wise, his eyes closed and his breathing slowing. Tapping him lightly on the shoulder, you managed to get him to move to where he was taking up one side of the bed and you could curl onto your usual side with ease.

                “Thanks for coming, Sam.” You sighed, feeling yourself arch into his front. Without reservation, Sam’s strong arm wrapped itself around you and pulled you closer.

                “Not a problem, darling.” He smiled into the crook of your neck. There was a small part of you that wanted to protest, to figure out what the hell was going on and why, all of a sudden, you were fine with sharing a bed with a man that you barely knew. But, when you turned slightly and met his hazel eyes, you understood. His eyes started drooping slowly, and yours followed.

                The next morning, you groaned as you turned over, trying your hardest to remember why there was a pain in your head. Then, it all came rushing back. The witches, your class, Dean, Sam…. Sam!

                “Downstairs,” You heard him say, and it was then that you realized you must have called out for him. Wrapping your robe around you, you moved down the stairs with a little more ease than you moved up them last night.

                “Yeah. Thanks, Dean. Bye.” Sam hung up his phone before watching you finish your decent down the stairs. “Hey,” his smile was bright and the little swish of his hair made your heart jump a little. “It was Dean. He wanted to make sure you were alright.” He smiled.

                “He wanted to know if you got laid,” Your laugh started echoing through the room as Sam ducked his head, embarrassed.

                “Yeah, that too.” He said, before stepping up to you on the bottom stair. Watching him, you moved your hand to cup his face.

                “Thank you, for everything.” You said, silently, before pushing up on your toes and brushing your lips against his, soft and slow. With a deep breath, he wrapped his large arms around your small frame, engulfing you in his power. He swiped his tongue on your bottom one, asking for permission. You opened your mouth with ease, welcoming the muscle to fight against your own. It wasn’t forced; it was soft and slow. And when Sam’s hand gently caressed down your thigh and pulled at your knee, you jumped, allowing him to carry you up the stairs and lay you down.

                His kisses were soft and tender at first. But, as soon as your sleep shirt was tossed to the side, something primal kicked in and everything turned. He held you in his arms, thrusting up into your body in long, slow pulls. He kissed you senseless through orgasm. It was only after he satisfied you multiple times that he allowed himself to come, hot and hard inside of you. Spent, he gently traced his fingers against your shoulders, tracing the lines of the muscles there.

                “So,” He said, looking down at you with a smile. “What were you thinking about doing for sabbatical?”


End file.
